


In Dreams

by quicksparrows



Series: Illustrated Collaborations with Emmy [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Consensual Somnophilia, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21714391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: Her own body was in constant revolt. Constantly demanding, giving only strength and violence, serving only as a means to an end. It brought her little pleasure.She thought a body like his deserved to be admired. Worshipped, even.[Illustrated, NSFW]
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra
Series: Illustrated Collaborations with Emmy [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552522
Comments: 5
Kudos: 198





	In Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> art by [Emmy](http://twitter.com/cyaptinpiss)

Good dreams had always eluded her.

It was strange to her to have her idle mind wander somewhere pleasant: without the discipline of waking hours and the business of her day, it tended to only go to the darkest of places, or else nothing at all. But for once, it was joyous. She felt safe. She felt secure, and in control, and embraced by the unshakeable arms of loyalty.

What did not change was the intensity.

It was the intensity that had Edelgard sitting up in bed, her heart throbbing in her chest and her skin clammy. She looked about her, and then dipped a bewildered hand between her legs; she found herself slick and swollen, and the realization of what she had been dreaming about brought a heat to her face, too. Despite the strangeness of the experience, she did not want to let it go so readily. She laid back down, somewhat shakily.

In the dark, she could hear Hubert’s sleeping breaths: slow, rhythmic, relaxing. While he didn’t reliably wake up in the middle of her nightmares, he did, at least, generally sense her — how often had she woken up to find him spooning her, enveloping her in his arms until she stilled, burying his face in her hair even as she trembled?

Edelgard thought to go back to sleep, but it didn’t come. She was wide awake, and before long, she was sitting up again.

She seldom touched herself. She generally did not need to; Hubert tended to her needs with such care and attentiveness that it scarcely seemed necessary. Now, though, she was reluctant to wake him for something so selfish, and left to her own devices, she would have to take manners into her own hands.

More frustrating still: the image in her mind was gone.

She would have to make do.

Edelgard shifted in bed, onto her knees. She was careful not to disturb Hubert as she pushed the covers down. Inch by inch, she revealed the naked expanse of his broad chest, her gaze flicking between his bare skin and his sleeping face. He did not stir, even when she pulled the covers right down to his slim hips. 

Hubert had never permitted her to look at him much. She had, of course, seen him naked enough that she could place every scar or blemish on his pale skin, but he was so devoted to his service to her that he scarcely allowed her the time to praise him. She did love his body, of course, every inch of it — it was a body that had served her tirelessly, and protected hers in times of need, and carried her when she was too tired or wounded, even when he was hurt himself. He had little in the way of markings, of wounds. He did his work with such care and efficiency that their enemies scarcely managed to touch him.

Her own body was in constant revolt. Constantly demanding, giving only strength and violence, serving only as a means to an end. It brought her little pleasure.

She thought a body like his deserved to be admired. Worshipped, even.

Edelgard worked her fingers around her clit, teasing herself as he would do to her. A sound slipped off her lips, even as she tried to stifle it. Hubert stirred, head turning aside, and he breathed in a little deeper. His fingers flexed. Edelgard put her other hand to his chest, as if to soothe him, and he slept on, oblivious.

His skin was bed-warm, and inviting. Edelgard shuddered, easing herself closer to him, something he must have felt in his own dreams as her hip brushed his. She slipped a finger inside of herself — just one, to start — and found her own did not reach nearly as far as his did. Her own ministrations felt that much more predictable to her, and too yielding. Frustration! Would he enjoy waking up to find her directing his hand to her cunt? Certainly — but she asked so much of him already. Couldn’t she at least wait until morning?

But the idea of giving up such a rare dream seemed so terribly unjust to her.

She knew he would want to serve her.

She pulled the covers down a little further so she could see his cock, laid against the juncture of his thigh. She dared let her fingertips run a path from the arc of his ribs down through the trail of dark hair at his groin, finally settling just above his cock. Would he stir more, she wondered? She wanted to touch him.

More: she wanted to ride him.

Edelgard straddled his hips, her weight shifting ungracefully across the featherbed, the coverlet sinking in valleys around her knees. She sighed when her bared sex brushed his groin, and he barely stirred. He reached for her as though she were still sleeping by his side, and she took his hands and brought them to her. Still, he did not open his eyes, nor did his gestures gain any semblance of cognizance. He surely as asleep as she was awake.

Edelgard pressed herself up against his soft cock and slid her wet slit up against him. He exhaled a little louder, and as she gyrated across him, she felt him grow hard, perhaps faster than she’d ever noticed before. A gasp slipped off her lips. What was it about dreaming that brought such things on so quickly? Perhaps in dreams it was easier to let go, easier to act thoughtlessly, without inhibition.

 _Look at him_ , she thought, headily. _Even in his sleep, he’s..._

She began to rock her hips harder, his cock straightening out under her and making a hard ridge she could grind along. Her breath picked up, and her heart hammered harder still when she felt him tense under her, his back arching and then falling, his hands moving on their own to find her thighs, her hips — he responded to her as easily as in dreams, just slower. His lips parted and drew a tight breath. Her thighs burned pleasantly from the exertion. She—

She was so close.

His eyes opened, just a sliver at first, and then wider. For a moment she kept riding against him, gazing down into his eyes. Even in the dark, he seemed delirious, halfway between being awake and asleep, and it was so like the image in her dream that she shuddered, overwhelmed. His body was so beautiful, so strangely pristine. His body was hers.

“Hubert,” she gasped.

He pressed up against her. She couldn’t stay upright much longer — she fell forward, hands on either side of his chest, but she kept bearing down on him. She came, shuddering, and even as the waves washed over her, his hands lingered on her hips, his grip growing tighter as his sense came alive. His breaths came so deeply that as she sank against his chest, she rose again on it. She let her forehead fall against his for a moment, her hair falling around them in a great silvery curtain.

She smiled, and his long, aristocratic nose bumped hers.

“Why didn’t you just wake me?” he murmured. He wrapped his arms around her and eased her over onto her back, rolling her under him. His weight on hers felt grounding, even as he pinned her legs open. She could still feel him heavy against her.

“Would you have preferred I did?” she asked in turn.

“My lady,” he said, and the rumble of his deep voice passed from his chest to hers, “as always, I am yours whenever it pleases you.”

Though she could not quite see his smirk, she _felt_ it.

“After all,” he told her, “I can’t imagine a more enjoyable way to wake up.”


End file.
